Designing Woman

My mother had two hobbies: reading and rearranging furniture. I shared her love of reading, but never understood her passion for decorating. Once I get my furnishings placed appropriately they might remain in the same place for years. The only times I've moved furniture around are when we've been transferred to a new location. I wouldn't do it even then, but I can't afford new stuff every time we change houses, and no one ever seems to want our old stuff.

Mom never had a budget for decorating, so our furniture was about as basic as it could be. We had a sofa, a love seat, and two chairs in varying shades of brown, tan, and black, but by simply rearranging the pieces from time to time and adding a new throw pillow or a crocheted afghan she'd create a completely different look.

Not long after I left home Mom bought a floral sofa. It kind of pissed me off. For all those years I thought furniture had to be a solid color and at the tender age of 18 I discovered florals exist! Had I not been worthy of a floral sofa? Was she making an exchange? Me for a sofa of flowers and leaves?

Studly Doright and I inherited my parents ugly black sofa when we married, but when I had the opportunity to buy a new one, it had flowers everywhere. It was ugly as sin, but at least it wasn't a solid. That'd show 'em.

Honestly, I have no skills in decorating. I never thought of it as something I'd enjoy doing for fun, but recently I was looking for an online game to keep me from overthinking everything in my life, and I found Design Home. Now I'm obsessed.

Here's how it works. Every few hours a design challenge is posted, usually with some criteria attached, i.e. two metal items, three rustic pieces, etc. Players select pieces either from their own inventory, from the inventories of friends, or from the shop, and then try to create a pleasing room. Players also get to vote on other designs. I get a kick out of seeing how others interpreted the challenge.

Here's one of my designs:

Isn't it pretty? My mom would have loved this game. Would she have chosen a floral sofa? I'll never know.

Peace, people. Go hug your mom.

Cry

Just shy of midnight she sobs into her pillow. Gut wrenching, heartbreaking soul-searing expulsions of unmitigated sadness. 

Down the hall, behind a sterile and locked door he offers a handkerchief, white, unsullied, starched and ironed to perfection.

Fat lot of good it does to hold out a hand that she’ll never see. But it’s all he has. All he can risk, this offer of quiet condolence.

Never Judge a Book

They leaned across the table,
fingertips touching,
heads inclined,
eyes engaged

Anyone could see how much in
love they were,
except I heard
her call him

A freaking dumbass, while
he made feeble
attempts at an
apology.

Eavesdropping certainly
has some perks
not the least of which is
entertainment value.

Vivian Maier, New York, 1950

Don’t Snore at Me in that Tone!

 
My friend and fellow blogger, Bun, posted a wonderful piece about snoring, and sleeping, and the sheer beauty of relationships based on many years of studying each other’s quirks: 

https://bunkaryudo.wordpress.com/2016/01/04/earplugs-eye-rolls-and-the-art-of-camouflage/
His post prompted the following conversation:

 
 
  
  
 

  
Ok, that’s more like it.

Peace, people.

Dread

  

i wait
those four typed words hanging between us:

we need to talk

with trembling hands i key in your
number,

voice mail, my reward.

what cruelty has led us to this awful
place?

how much more can my sanity take?

i jump as a ringtone signals your call.

hello? i answer so softly that even i struggle to hear.

hey, you say, i wonder…

please, just end this agony! get it over with already!

well, i just wanted to know if i could have your recipe for lasagna.

oh, well sure. no problem. glad to help. 

let’s talk again soon.

  
  

Walmart Proposal or Finally Hitting the Big Time

Studly Doright and I have been married for more than 39 years now. I know what you’re thinking, “Man, that Studly is one lucky son of a gun.” And you’d be right. Apparently, I’m a heckuva catch. 

Just this afternoon at Walmart a young man on the pet food aisle chatted me up about my cats and made additional small talk before asking, “So, are you married?” 

I blinked rapidly several times and then in a too loud voice responded, “Yep! Yep! Old and married.”

“Too bad,” he responded and sauntered away. 

He wasn’t my type. The saggy, baggy jeans were a deal breaker. Well, that and the “I look like I just got out of jail” vibe he was putting out. Still, if Studly ever forgets just how lucky he is, I have at least one prospect.

Note: My Walmart beau looked a lot better than any of these guys:

 

Is this the legendary Camo Fairy?
  
Barney called. He wants his suit back.
  
Don’t you wish your boyfriend was hot like me?
  
Gary had a little lamb.
 Peace, people!

Janie’s Gift

In the real world I have a lovely friend who has a gift. Janie Christie Heniford writes the most beautiful, inspirational, heart warming posts and shares them on Facebook during the month of November. 

I look forward to these posts. They make me laugh, cry, think, and nod my head in ardent agreement. Today I asked if she’d be okay with me sharing her post on Praying for Eyebrowz. Of course then I wondered if I was savvy enough to do that. 

To my delight, Janie consented. Now let’s see if I can get this done. I’ll be sure to share any comments with Janie. It’s a real pleasure to share Janie’s gift with my readers. Enjoy. And as always, peace, people.

 

Janie’s photo
 
Janie Christie Heniford at Sooner Lake

I am thankful today, for changes. Changes of all kinds, actually. Circumstances. location, mind, weather, leadership, looks, understanding, time, hairstyles, position, jobs, almost everything.  

One of the first times that i can remember thinking about how things change is when i was a young girl. To join the Christian church, one of the things asked of me by our pastor, is, “are you willing to give as much of yourself as you know and understand, to as much of God as you know and understand?”. I was smart enough to realize that i might not know every SINGLE thing in the world, but I thought that I knew God. I did. I knew all that my sweet and untried young self could really know. I grew to realize, of course, that one’s walk with God is dynamic, in as much as our experiences and understanding of life are dynamic.

When Rick and I decided to retire to Oklahoma, we chose it mostly to be near our family, but also because of the seasons here. We found that we missed the definite four seasons. Our circumstances will change some with retirement, a fixed income, a lower income, and hopefully (this is the plan anyway) lower expenses. 

Over the years our health will change, our abilities will change, absolutely our looks will change. It’s all a good thing. It is likely that I will never love the storms here, but as we have weathered the storms in our lives, we will stand fast in the storms here. We will be prepared. We will take precautions. I will learn to accept them as part of my life.  Today as I was out driving, I noticed that I was following right beside the back end of a front. The clouds further out were ominous, but the ones up close were breaking up, beginning to let light through, and a much different pattern than the clouds further out.  Closer they held the promise of sunshine, and beauty. Further out they threatened storms. 

Our lives surely don’t follow a line that is clearcut like a front line. The clouds of life are different day to day, and minute to minute, and the shapes that change are our own. I imagined today, as i watched the clouds, even took pictures of them as they spoke so deeply to me, that maybe that is part of what I have learned about God. There are storms, and there are fresh new beginnings. There must be changes wrought within as we battle the storms, to allow the fresh new starts to come through.  

Yep. Sometimes i figure things out when i travel alone. I’m a lucky, lucky girl to have that opportunity.

Figuratively Speaking

From frying pan to fire and
To neighbor’s greener grass,
Life’s trials sure seem rosier
Seen through the looking glass.

But reality’s a cruel taskmaster
And luck not always a lady,
Hearts grow fonder with absence
For someone else’s baby.

  
Peace, people.